


Ipsa Scientia Potestas Est

by theonlymiko



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Afrikaans, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Character Death, Death Eaters, Eastern Cape, Gen, Major Original Character(s), Mild Blood, Mild Language, Murder, Non-Canon Relationship, Original Character Death(s), South Africa, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-20 16:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4793636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonlymiko/pseuds/theonlymiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Voldemort won the Battle of Hogwarts and now commands most of the world. The Wizarding World is in a terrible state. One group will attempt to travel back in time to fix the wrongdoings of the Betrayer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Just a warning: English is not my home language.

The Battle of Hogwarts took place on 2 May 1998.

The Light did not emerge came out victorious.

Voldemort succeeded in taking over the whole of Magical Britain by the end of July, 1998.

Harry Potter was killed on 10 May 1998.

The Weasley family went into hiding with their son Charlie in Egypt, in a house protected under the Fidelius Charm.

Ginny Weasley, at the age of sixteen, was pregnant with the child of Harry Potter.

Hermione Granger is not loyal to the Light.

By the end of November 1998, Voldemort's influence reached the uppermost tips of Africa, bringing death and destruction.

Voldemort is not insane.

Voldemort regained his appearance of Tom Marvolo Riddle after going through a ritual that was researched by Hermione Granger.

The Order of the Phoenix was destroyed. Those who survived joined the Dark in order to live.

The Resistance attempted to overthrow Voldemort in 2000.

The Resistance was obliterated in 2001.

In 2003, Ron Weasley tried to kill the Dark Lord. He was killed in bttle.

The Dark Lord gained a lover.

Michael Riddle, heir to the Dark Lord Voldemort, was born from Hermione Granger on 9 April 2004. Hermione survived, while Michael is rumored to have died during childbirth.

James Sirius Potter died at the age of 6 from a Death Eater attack in 2005.

Ginny Weasley was unable to recover from the death of her only son.

By the year 2010, Voldemort's influence has reached the whole world. Those who resisted were either killed or given an extra chance to change their minds.

Voldemort achieved immortality and eternal youth shortly after the 19th of April, 2010.

Voldemort's influence, although not strong, was visible in South Africa.

The Ravens from South Africa formed a new Resistance to take down Lord Voldemort.

On 17 August 2015 the Ravens travelled back to the year 1996.

Voldemort never saw it coming.

Neither did the Light.


	2. Chapter One – The Interview and Life Stories

Kimaine James  
Thursday, 15 June 2013

"Number Eleven, please step forward."I blink slowly as the words register in my mind. I'm Eleven, aren't I? I glance to the person sitting next to me for confirmation.  
She has dark grey eyes and wild red curls. Kerri Alders, my best friend for as long as I can remember, notices my look and offers me a slight smile."Good luck," she mouths.  
I slowly stand up, making sure to make as little noise as possible. We are seated near the front of the Assembly Hall, which means that I do not have to walk far to reach the little side room behind the large stage. Waiting at the door is an Auror I don't recognize. He dips his head in acknowledgement and opens the door for me. I enter and as I walk to the centre of the room I brush some imaginary lint off of my shoulder. I take a few deep breaths and exhale my nervousness.  
I can do this.  
I stop at the centre and lift my head to glance at the Interviewers. On the right side is Professor Mira Muller, a grumpy yet talented old witch who has been at Grey's School for the Magically Gifted for over forty years now. Her light grey hair is tied into a messy bun. Her expression is professionally disinterested.  
Next to her is Professor Adrian James, my estranged brother. He is the youngest teacher at our school, being only 28-years-old. His dark hair hangs in his green eyes as he gazes thoughtfully at me. He meets my eyes and dips his head slightly.  
Last but not least is Professor Demarco Bulero. He is in his late thirties and has only started to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts at this school a year ago. He is an ex-Auror, and thus he is a much-respected man. He lifts his dark eyes to meet mine.  
"Please state your full name, age, and country of origin," Professor Bulero intones. His voice is rich and dark.  
"Kimaine James, sixteen years old. I was born and raised in the Eastern Cape province in South Africa." My voice is crystal clear, belying the nervousness churning in my gut.  
The African Professor nods and scribbles down a note. I'm amused to see that he is using a Muggle pen.  
Professor Muller is the next to speak. "What talents do you have to offer to The Ravens, Miss James, and why is it that you want to join this group?"

A scream pushes itself to the forefront of my mind, memories of a time I'd rather forget, things that are my reason for fighting. My knuckles tighten. "I see myself as mostly emotionally detached. I would be able to do what is necessary for this project to succeed. Professor James has trained me since I was a child. I am quite adept at casting Illusions spells, as well as wandless and silent magic. I have been told that I am also talented in the Mind Magic department."

I can only pray that this is enough.

I lick my lips and add, "My motivation is that I want to right the wrongs of the past. I need to influence the three teenagers responsible for the Dark Ages and, if possible, reveal Hermione Granger's true intentions. Perhaps our intervention will be able to prevent all the horror that is our life today."

"If the Time Travel is successful, which role would you take?" Professor James questions next. "Explain in detail."

While I think about my answer, the African Professor conjures me a chair. I sit down gratefully.

I slowly start to speak. "If the Ravens were to succeed in travelling back to the year 1996, I would help create false memories in which our school was attacked and we approach Hogwarts seeking refuge. Depending on where we are placed, I will befriend anyone of the same age group. With time I will attempt to expose Miss Granger's actions and loyalties, without betraying our cover. If this approach is unsuccessful, I will associate myself with the Slytherins and subtly show my disdain for Muggles and my magical talents. I can only hope that they would invite me to Malfoy Manor to meet the Dark Lord. If I manage to be initiated, I will do everything in my power to reveal Miss Granger's role to the Light. I will be loyal to the Ravens, and do whatever is necessary to ensure that we succeed. This project will not be done in vain."

The Professors are silent as they jot down a few notes. Curiosity burns inside of me. What are they writing?

They finally stop writing.

"Please demonstrate your talents one at a time." It's my brother. His eyes hold no emotion whatsoever, not even a smile.

"Of course, Professor."

I stand up and do my best to keep my hands from shaking. I close my eyes and envision myself as an older gentleman. I imagine the slightly wrinkled and tanned skin, the white hair, the gentle smile, and the old-fashioned clothes. I have blue eyes and yellowed teeth. My fingers twitch as I force my magic to distort reality. The air shimmers as I open my eyes.

"This is a part of the Illusion, wandless and wordless magic," I murmur. My voice is deep and ancient sounding.

"How long can you keep this illusion, Miss James?" Professor Bulero questions.

Professor Muller looks fascinated. "Is it an illusion or transfiguration?"

"It's an illusion, ma'am. The longest that it has held is four hours and twenty-two minutes."

The aged professor nods. "Please precede, Miss James."

I falter for a second, at a loss as to what to do next. Thinking fast, I stick out my left hand and slowly form a fist. Within seconds, chains spring out of the chair that Professor Bulero conjured. I focus hard and project a ghost image in the chair. The chains wrap around the person and little electric shocks are released when it tries to escape.

"It seals off magic," I say, my voice strained with effort. "It lasts up to ten minutes."

"That is all for today, thank you Miss James." Professor Muller nods in thanks. "You may return to the Assembly Hall now."

I wave my hand in a dismissive motion and the Illusions and conjuring spells are dispelled. I feel shaky and unworthy, as if I didn't do enough to prove myself. I give an uneasy smile at the professors and speedily walk to the door. The Auror smiles at me and waits until I take a seat to call Number Twelve.

Kerri immediately turns to me with anxious eyes. "How was it?"

I smile weakly. "I think it went okay..."

Lefu, sitting on my right side, sighs. "You're extremely talented. There's no need to look so down, Kimaine."

"Are you sure?" I ask quietly.

The dark skinned teenager nods and turns back to the large hardcover in his hands. I eye his clean-shaved head before lifting my eyes to Kerri who is seated on Lefu's other side. She meets my gaze and starts to shake with supressed giggles. I press a hand to my mouth to hold in my laughter. We still cannot get over the fact that Lefu decided to shave his head.

Irritated brown eyes lift reluctantly from the hardcover to glare first at Kerri and then at me. "Yes, I shaved my head. Now get over it already." He doesn't wait for an answer before he starts to read again.

I eye Lefu's newly pierced ears and the baboon fang necklace laying low on his chest. He looks like somebody you should not, under any circumstances, mess with. Which is true, in a way. Lefu knows some seriously harmful Dark spells. Even I am sometimes afraid of the seventeen year old.

"Kim," Kerri whispers lowly. "Look at Number 13." She nods her head to the far left.

I curiously follow her gaze to a young girl who appears to be around fourteen years old. From where we are sitting I notice that she has a slight build and short brown hair.

"What about her?" I question, wondering what is on my ginger friend's mind. Number 13 looks pretty normal to me.

Kerri seems to be struggling to find the right words. "I don't know. She just looks so...insignificant. Like, she's still a little girl. What could she possibly have to offer to the Ravens?"

As if hearing what Kerri said, the girl's head snaps up and she glares at Kerri. Her eyes flash and she looks ready to stand up, but just then the door opens and Number 11 comes out.

"Number 13, you're up!" calls the Auror.

The girl narrows her eyes one last time before standing up and walking to the door. She is dressed in black skinny jeans, a tank top and a leather jacket. She is filled with a level of self-confidence rarely seen in 14-year-olds.

"Huh, maybe I'm wrong," Kerri lowly murmurs.

I know instantly what Kerri is referring to: the girl has a vicious-looking scar beside her right eye. It contrasts so starkly with her olive skin that I am disappointed in myself for not noticing it earlier.

Lefu sighs with irritation and snaps his book shut.

Startled, I ask him what his problem is.

"Don't either of you know who she is?" he questions in a tone that clearly states that we are idiots if we don't know the answer.

"Who, Thirteen?" Kerri asks uncertainly. She glances at me but I shake my head. I have no idea who this girl is.

Lefu narrows his eyes with obvious disapproval. "Her name is Kali, but she's better known as Kaliza Rayne. When she was eleven, she argued with a boy living in the same orphanage as she did. Her anger mixed with her yelling caused her magic to lash out and smash all of the windows in the room. This of course alerted the Training Facility who went to the orphanage and offered to train her. She has been with them ever since."

I am impressed despite my earlier reservations. The Training Facility is an underground group that recruits young children to train them in all types of magic, physical combat and material arts. The chance of being recruited is probably one in a thousand.

"She must be extremely talented," Kerri whispers. She is awestruck.

"Yes, so do not make the mistake of underestimating her. Ever." Lefu's voice is hard and serious.

I nod silently. I have known Lefu since I was eight years old – in other words, I've known him for roughly eight years now. Whenever Lefu uses his 'serious' tone of speech, it's better to listen to him – which is something I learned the hard way.

As Lefu returns to his book and Kerri starts to quietly chat with a sullen-looking guy, I reflect back on how exactly I met Lefu.

The day I met him was somewhere in May 2005, although I am not sure of the exact date. It was a few weeks after my eight-birthday celebration when the news came that Death Eaters had attacked another village. It was made known that there were only a few survivors. Adrian (who was nineteen at the time) was asked to accompany the still-then Auror Bulero and some other important Aurors to round up the survivors. There were six in total, Lefu and his little sister being two of them. I remember my brother showing up at our house with a young African boy who held a toddler in his protective arms.

My brother told me that they were now a part of our family. I was so excited! Sure, I had Adrian, but as he is older than I am he wasn't as affectionate. I didn't have a mother, a father or a sister. This was my chance at a family.

Adrian introduced them as Lefu (nine) and Abri (two). At first it was hard to get along with the African boy; he refused to talk to anyone and was at his sister's side 24/7. With some time (and a ton of chocolate) I managed to get Lefu to talk to me. It was short sentences, no more than two or three words, but within five months he started to open up a little each day. Eventually he told me what his favourite colour was, he told me his favourite foods and things to do. We developed a tentative friendship – or familial bond, depending how you look at it.

By 2007 we were extremely close. We knew everything about each other and protected each other's deepest and darkest secrets. We thought that nothing could get in the way of our friendship, but unfortunately a bastard named Murphy* got in the way.

Two of my close friends were brutally murdered right in front of me. I met the Dark Lord and the Granger sisters, and why I was allowed to live is something I have never figured out. The terrible image of my friends dying is burned into my mind like a tattoo; their screams still echo in my ears sometimes. They are my motivation. The horror that I witnessed that night caused me to close up and build kilometres-high walls around my heart. It took four months' coaxing to get me to talk again. Slowly but surely I recovered. I was back to the girl I used to be; yet I had a raw, rotten hate which infested my heart. One day I'd get my revenge. Kerri heard this vow and made one herself. We swore to avenge our friends and to make a difference in this Dark world. No one deserves to live in this terrible Darkness. We would fix this.

"It is now break time. Please return in half an hour."

The booming voice of the Auror stationed at the door jolts me out of my reflection on the past. I feel slightly disorientated as loud chatter suddenly fills the Assembly Hall and the various teenagers make their way outside.

Lefu notices and asks me if I'm all right.

"I'm just tired, Lefu," I say slowly. I notice the badly disguised impatience on Kerri's face and add, "Let's go outside. I need fresh air."

Kerri's relief is palpable. "Thank goodness we are almost done," she breathes out.

Lefu and I follow behind our ginger friend as she hurries into the surrounding forest. I breathe the clear air in deeply. I love the smell of rain that always linger here; it's always refreshing and has a calming effect.

We reach a little mountain stream. I plop down on the damp grass and smile at the area around us. This is a special spot that we always come to.

Kerri wring her hands together nervously. "It's my turn after break! Damn. I have a whole half an hour to stress."

My mind blanks for a second. Kerri is Twenty, which means that my trip down memory lane lasted longer than I thought.

"You will be amazing, Kerr, don't stress," I say confidently. I lay backwards against the cherry tree. "You needn't work yourself up, okay? Stay calm. This fidgety attitude is unlike you." I smile to show that I mean it nicely.

If it were anyone else they would have taken offence, but not Kerri. She breathes in deeply and nods in appreciation. She has regained her composure. "You're right, of course. Father would kill me if he saw me a moment ago."

I roll my eyes. Kerri hails from a relatively rigid Pureblood family who is decidedly Grey. They choose the winning side. Lord Alders however stated that for the time being, their family would remain Neutral. I'm not sure if I believe him.

Lefu frowns and fishes his iPhone out of his robe's pocket. His frown only deepens as he reads the text on his phone. He mutters a curse in Zulu.

I'm instantly worried. Lefu doesn't curse often. Kerri also looks concerned as we watch the troubled teen.

"You guys remember Wistful?" he asks.

We nod. She's an Anonymous witch who spreads word of events concerning Voldemort the second it happens. She hates the lies the media feeds us.

"I just received one of her Bulk texts," he says in a strained voice. He reads: " 'Dark Lord strikes again. Hogsback is in Death Eater control. 20 confirmed dead, more than 60 taken to Death Camps.' This is bad."

Hogsback is a small village almost two hours away from our current location. I sit frozen with horror. Those numbers...

"Well fuck," Kerri whispers. She sounds terrified. "Since when has there been Death Camps in the Eastern Cape?"

"I think this is the first," I murmur. What is going to happen to us?

Lefu receives another text. He clears his voice and reads, " 'THREE DEATH CAMPS CONFIRMED TO BE SET UP IN . EXACT LOCATIONS ARE UNKNOWN. Be careful, witches and wizards! The Dark Lord is getting serious.' That's all."

We stay silent. I'm not sure what to say. This...this is horrifying. Death Camps are camps that Voldemort created with the sole purpose of spreading misery and suffering. Women, children and men are all thrown into separate Camps. Each Cap has a number in a specific language. One was usually men, two for children, and three for women. Rebels or even innocent bystanders are sent to these Death Camps with the intention of murdering them, letting them starve, or converting them. People are desperate to get away from the Dementors that sometimes lurk there. In short, people are sent there until they finally die from circumstances, join the Dark or take their own life. Male Death Eaters and the occasional Dementor guard death Camps. The men is said to taunt the women and use them. The Dementors are there to cause misery.

I have to admit, albeit reluctantly, that Voldemort was rather clever to adopt the idea from Adolf Hitler and various others.

In the past South Africa has been relatively safe from Voldemort and his followers, but this year Voldemort is resolute to gain control of the whole South Africa. Four out of the nine South African provinces are under Voldemort's control, those four being Limpopo, Mpumalanga, the North West and Gauteng.

Make it five provinces and add the Eastern Cape, I think bitterly.

I silently stand up and brush the dirt off my buttocks. The peaceful air that was here a few minutes ago is completely gone, instead replaced with a heavy worry and pain.

Kerri and Lefu seem confused at me standing up.

I shake my head and smile slightly. "I need to speak to my brother." They make to stand up, so I quickly add, "I'll see you guys when the Interviews resume."

I turn around and leave without waiting for a reply. I walk as fast as I can without actually running, and within minutes I reach Grey's School for the Magically Gifted. I enter the Assembly Hall and then the side room without knocking, knowing that interrupting the Professors will come back to bite me in the ass later.  
Two pairs of eyes shoot up in surprise at my abrupt entrance, one green and the other brown. I breathe a mental sigh of relief that the strict Prof Muller isn't here.

"What's the matter, Kim? Are you hurt?" Adrian demands, his shoulders tensing.

"Did something happen? You look tense," Professor Bulero comments with a hint of humour. I don't appreciate it.

"There has been an attack in our province," I say in a tight voice. "It's said that there are 20 confirmed dead and another 60 taken to Death Camps."

There is a shocked silence.

"How do you know this, James?" Bulero demands in a hard voice. "This is no time for silly teenage games or jokes."

I flush with irritation and embarrassment. This is not a game. "Wistful sent out another Bulk message," I mumble quietly.

My brother's eyes narrow dangerously and a fire is ignited in them. Wistful isn't exactly popular with the Aurors or Professors – or any authority figure, for that matter. They despise her for letting the youth of today know the blunt truth of world events. The media always try to downplay or cover things, but Wistful announces the hard truth.

Adrian breathes in deeply in an attempt to calm down. He shares an intense look with the ex-Auror. "What else did this woman say?"

He spits 'woman' out as though it is vile. I clear my throat. "She said that the Dark Lord placed three Death Camps in the Eastern Cape."

"You do know what this means, don't you?" Adrian asks lowly. His fingers clench my sleeve tightly.

Professor Bulero's voice is grim. "The Eastern Cape is officially under Voldemort's command."


	3. Chapter Two: Social Darwinism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recap: Kimaine James goes for her interview with Professors James, Bulero and Muller. She is talented with Illusions. She reflects on how she met Lefu. The trio then learns that their province is now officially under Voldemort's command.

Kimaine James

I quietly return to my seat as the Assembly Hall once again starts to fill up. Further conversation between the Professors and me were put to an end when the first students arrived, which frustrates me to no end. I need to find out about how life is going to change now that we are under Voldemort's command.  
I glance at the two latest students who entered. It is numbers 7 and 8 who I believe were born in Greece and the Middle East respectively.  
The only feature I can make out of number 8 is his long black-haired ponytail, held in place by a bright red ribbon, which falls down to the small of his back. He seems like an interesting enough character. He's extremely tall, and from what I can make out through his clothes, he has narrow shoulders and a lithe build. What makes me the most curious, however, is the fact that he is dressed in a black Armani suit. He is obviously rich and his whole demeanour screams arrogance.  
"That is Ozymandias Malkira. Quit staring or he will notice, genius."  
I am startled at the sudden voice and whirl around to glare at the person who gave me such a fright. It turns out to be a girl around 15 years old. Her black hair is pulled into a messy ponytail. I notice how pale her skin is and how it makes her unsettlingly beautiful eyes stand out.  
She narrows her eyes. "Stop. Staring. At. Me."  
I'm immediately flustered. "I'm sorry! It's just... where are you from? I mean you have a South African accent but..." My voice trails off uncertainly.  
"I'm unusually pale?" she suggests helpfully. At my sheepish look she snorts and shakes her head. "You can blame my genetics."  
She eyes me critically, seemingly searching for something. Finally she smiles and says, "You're quite pale yourself, hey. I'm Number Ten, Cornith Cook." She sticks a hand out expectedly.  
She's right, of course. I am pale too, despite many hours spent in the harsh African sun...years ago. Truth is that I don't go into the sun enough anymore to actually work up a tan.  
I blink as I recognise her surname. Abraham Cook, her father I guess, is a well-known high-ranking Death Eater.  
"Number Eleven, Kimaine James," I introduce myself warily and shake her offered hand.  
Her eyebrows lift in surprise. "Oh, so you are the Prof James's little sister. Huh." For some reason her tone of voice makes me take offence. She seems to notice this and offers me a sly smile. "Anyway I have to go. Bye!" With that Cornith turns around and walks over to an empty area at the back of the Hall.  
I blink at her retreating back. Is this girl a threat? Does she still have strong ties with her father?  
I shake my head and give Kerri's hand a squeeze as her number is called. She walks to the front of the Hall, smiles at Lefu, and continues to the door with cool confidence radiating off of her. My hart warms. Knowing Kerri, she will ace the Interview.  
I'm brought out of my thoughts as a girl with chocolate brown hair cut in perfect layers sits down next to me. She has fair not-exactly-ivory skin and jade green eyes that curiously peer at me. She is dressed in a simple but obviously expensive white skinny jeans and a soft purple halter neck blouse.  
"I see that you met the wonderful Cori Cook," she says in a way of greeting.  
I find myself mildly annoyed by the fact that she is the second person to invade my personal space in five minutes. I'm not sure how much more I can handle."  
"If by wonderful you mean wonderfully rude, then yes, I have."  
The brunette snorts inelegantly. "I'm Vasilisa West," she says, looking sideways at me. "Number 23."  
I absently wonder what the real importance of the Numbers are and make a mental note to question my brother about it later.  
"Pleased to meet you, Vasilisa. I'm Number Eleven, Kimaine James."  
"Yes, I know. You are Professor Adrian James's little sister. You joined training for the Ravens after the death of two of your friends. You also have a romantic interest in someone you can't ever have." She smirks as I flush bright crimson. "It's not what I came to find out, though. Cornith Cook is a very complicated girl, so don't judge her just yet."  
Vasilisa pauses and tilts her head slightly. "Now I want to know..." She pauses with a small smile and cross her arms over her chest.  
I wait expectantly. I wonder what she wants to know? I start to feel impatient and wave my hand to spur her on. I hate waiting.  
"What type of wand do you have?" she finally asks. Her eyes are round and eager.  
I blink a few times at the completely random is definitely not what I expected.  
"That is your question," I say incredulously. "Really? Are you serious?"  
Vasilisa rolls her eyes. "Yes, that's my question. Now tell me already!" She is clearly impatient. "It's not like you have anything to lose by telling me, James."  
Her jade green eyes boor into mine with curiosity.  
I sigh. "It's 9 inches, Yellow wood, and the core is a Sand Phoenix tail feather." I furrow my brow and ask, "Why is this important?"  
"It's not," Vasilisa says brightly with a shrug, though there's a glint in her eyes that makes me suspicious. "I just wanted to know."  
I don't reply as my attention is on Lefu who abruptly stood and is hurrying over to me. A sense of dread fills me as I see the true panic in his eyes. I stand up the moment the African reaches me.  
"What's going on, Lefu?"  
His answer is to grab my arm and forcibly drag me from the Hall.  
"What - Lefu!" I curse the moment we are outside. "Merlin, I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to Vasilisa!"  
I rip my arm out of his grip and glare angrily at him. I'm confused however when he shoves his iPhone into my hands.  
"Read," he commands. "Now."

It says: Attention witches and wizards! The laws of L.V. will soon be applied upon the Eastern Cape. Can't go into detail, but arranged marriages are one of the laws. Just wanted to let everyone know in case the media tries to lie again. -Wistful

"That can't be right," I mutter lowly as fear starts to sink in. The whole idea of having no choice about the person who you will marry... "Lefu, she has got to be mistaken!" Hysteria creeps into my voice.  
Arranged marriage...?  
Lefu's face is grim. He shakes his head and places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "I'm afraid that she is not mistaken, Kim. I'm sorry. Wistful has never been wrong about anything before."  
Lefu runs a hand over his face. "I just wanted you to see this."  
I bite my lip and try to push my anxiety down. I can freak out later when I am not in public. "Thank you, Lefu. I think that we should probably go back into the Hall. We can't be gone for too long or the Auror and students will get suspicious."  
The truth is that I don't think that I can be any good company right now. The idea of arranged marriage is scaring me to death. I can't let Lefu see me like this, and if we stay outside any longer he just might.  
Lefu nods and gently pulls on my hand. My fingers slip from his and I follow him back into the Hall. Eyes turn to us as we enter, but I keep my chin high and studiously ignore them. I quietly retake my seat next to Vasilisa West.  
"Are you two okay?" she asks with genuine concern.  
"I'm fine, thanks, just thinking." I smile blandly.  
She nods and turns to the front as Number 22, a young African boy, is called to the front for his final interview. I feel relieved that Vasilisa didn't pry.  
I sigh and run a hand through my black hair. Earlier when I heard that my Province has fallen under the Dark Lord's command I had been so consumed by the thought that that murderer is here that I completely forgot how much our lives are about to change. Wistful's message was a harsh reminder that life will never be the same. From what I have learned from some other countries, this idea called Social Darwinism plays a enormous role in Voldemort's regime, but of course we don't know much about this idea thanks to the media bowing underneath the Dark Lord's command.  
Next to me, Vasilisa rises. At my questioning look she rolls her eyes. "Stop spacing out, James. It's my turn."  
Oh. I wish her good luck.  
She smiles briefly at me with determined eyes before walking to the stage. I hope that both of us make the team. I somehow know that I would be able to count on her. She just has this powerful aura.

After two long and torturous hours we are finally done. Professor Bulero enters the Hall, along with the two other Professors. He addresses the twenty-five of us that are gathered in the Assembly Hall. He thanks us for our hard work and also praise us on how knowledgeable and talented we are. Next to me, Lisa Reeds smirks. She's from an important Pureblood family and, as the unfortunate norm is, she is as vain as a girl can be.  
"I'm going to be on that team, James," she whispers with satisfaction. "You'll see."  
I roll my eyes at her and nearly choke on a laugh as a teenage boy from behind us mutters a scathing comment.  
"You won't get in by spreading your legs, Lisa."  
The blonde Pureblood is highly offended and seems about ready to blow up, so I hurry to make an escape as soon as Professor Bulero bids us farewell.  
I meet Kerri and Lefu outside.  
"We need to go to Professor Frost to see what work we missed today," Kerri grumbles. "I hate potions. I hate school. Why do we have to go to school?"  
Lefu smiles affectionately at our friend, and I wonder if maybe he has feelings for her. This warms my heart.  
"Are you coming with us, Kim?" Lefu asks politely. He already knows my answer.  
"No thank you, I will just bully my brother to help me," I say with a cheeky smile. Adrian received an Outstanding in Potions at the end of his Seventh Year, so he had better help his poor young sister.  
If not, I will bribe him with chocolate. Us James siblings have a serious weakness for dark chocolate...  
I say goodbye to my friends and enter the cool school building. It's an old school, yet modern touches can be seen everywhere. Also, there are no roaming ghosts, thank Merlin.  
It's 15:30, as my stomach reminds me, so I decide to go to the kitchen to grab a late lunch. My mind goes delightfully blank as I walk the familiar path. Think happy thoughts, Kimaine.  
I yell in alarm when a hand touches my shoulder. I whirl around, a spell on the tips of my fingers. My heart rate accelerates. I glare fiercely. "Do NOT sneak up on me Vasilisa West!" I growl. As my heart rate slows down again, I say, "Next time make a noise or something. Good Merlin."  
Vasilisa watches the red dissipate from my fingers with obvious fascination. "It's not my fault that you do not pay attention to your surroundings," she says simply.  
She has a good point, not that I tell her that. "Do you like this school?"  
Vasilisa sighs deeply. "It's old, I guess, and quite well equipped. The landscape and land is beautiful...yet it is not my school." She is silent for a few beats. "Do you like it, Kimaine?"  
I laugh. "I've been here for years so I guess I am obligated, in a way."  
We reach the entrance to the kitchen. It is a enormous portrait of Pieter Grey, the founder of this school. He is a lean and muscled man. He observes us with narrow eyes.  
"Ja?" he demands snidely. "Wat will julle hê?" [Yes? What do you want?]  
Pieter is unable to speak English, so I quickly explain in Afrikaans why we were not at lunch.  
"Nou maar toe. Maak gou, jonge dames! Ek het nie heeldag tyd nie!" he snaps impatiently. "Moet nie laat dit weer gebeur nie!" [Well then. Hurry up, young ladies! I don't have all day! Do not let it happen again!]  
I sigh with relief as the portrait swings open. We hurry through it. The kitchen is large and filled with house elves happily working and bustling around. A house elf names Sara approaches us immediately. I met her once before when I snuck in during last year's exams.  
"What can Sara gets Missus James and Friend?"  
I smile faintly at the excited elf. "A piece of steak pie would be lovely, please Sara."  
Sara nods enthusiastically and glance askance at Vasilisa.  
The brunette raises an eyebrow. "What she is having. Please."  
"Sara will be right back!" the elf exclaims and hurries off to prepare our food.  
I take a seat at one of the many tables. I observe Vasilisa as she gazes around the kitchen curiously. It's probably her first time here. My curiosity spikes as I notice a small barely noticeable rose tattoo in her neck, and I can't help but wonder what exactly it symbolises.  
"How did your Interview go?" I ask instead.  
Vasilisa's eyes flicker over to meet mine. She thinks about it for a moment, and then answers, "It went well, I think. I did not have any trouble answering their questions. How was yours?"  
I briefly tell her, and she smiles at me. "I hope we both meet the requirements," she says happily.  
Sara returns a few minutes later and hands our food to us. We eat in a comfortable silence. After a few minutes we make small talk to get to know each other. I learn that se was born in Britain, and that on her 7th birthday she arrived in South Africa, making her stay here roughly nine years.  
"I'm impressed, Vasilisa. You have been here longer than most people have," I say with some surprise. "I've heard that most of the finalists, besides the locals, have only moved to South Africa in the last five years or so."  
She hesitates a moment too long. "My dad had us come here for business." Her mouth turns downward slightly, but I don't think she notices.  
"I see," I say lamely. I glance at her plate; it's empty. "Shall we go then?"  
The brunette nods and stands up gracefully. We thank Sara and before long we are in the cold hallways again.  
"Where are you headed, Kimaine?" Vasilisa asks as we continue to walk aimlessly.  
I yawn softly. "Outside I think. I've been inside for way too long today."  
"I'm sorry Kimaine, but that will have to wait."  
I curse and whirl around to meet Professor James's tired face.  
"Adrian! What have I told you about sneaking around in this school?" I accuse. My heart once again beats wildly in my chest.  
Vasilisa laughs and says something about me scaring easily. She might be right.  
Adrian waves my words away like it's nothing. "We need to talk, Kimaine. I'm sorry for interrupting your conversation, Miss West" - here he nods at Vasilisa - "But I am positive that you will have time to talk later. Unfortunately this cannot wait."  
I smile apologetically at the brunette.  
"It's fine, really. I'll see you later, Kimaine." She waves and disappears around the corner. Her voice drifts over to me. "OH AND CALL ME LISSA!"  
I smile. So are we friends now? I think so, which is good.  
I follow Adrian as he starts to walk down one of the numerous hidden passages. Soon we arrive at our destination. I enter my brother's office. After taking a look at the stiff-looking office chairs, I conjure myself a beanbag. I plop down and watch as my brother walks to one of his many cupboards. He grabs a bottle of brandy and pours himself a glass. He downs it and pours himself another one.  
"Adrian...?" I ask hesitantly, slightly alarmed and concerned. Adrian rarely drinks.  
He sighs heavily and plants down next to me after conjuring his own beanbag.  
"I'm sorry, Kimmy," he mutters.  
My heart warms at the affectionate childhood nickname. And turns to ice at his next words.  
"It's just... we're fucked to Hell and back."  
"Don't curse," I scold harshly. "You are above that, are you not? Is that not what you always told me when I had the vocabulary of a bergie?" Bergie referring to the homeless people. I refrain from mentioning that I do, in fact, still curse like one.  
Adrian rubs a hand over his face. "I called you in here to warn you," he says. He peeks at me through his fingers. "Our lives are going to change drastically now that the Dark Lord is in command here too."  
He takes a sip if the amber liquid before continuing. "Do you know what social Darwinism is?"  
I shake my head no.  
Adrian nods to himself. "Darwinism is a theory that states that all organisms have evolved from common ancestors, through the process Natural Selection, which organisms adapted to their environment, will produce. Social Darwinism follows the same premise - only the strong survive and live on. Nazi ideology was strongly influenced by Social Darwinist ideas." Adrian pauses for a moment to allow me a moment to process everything. "Social Darwinism does not believe in the principle of equality of all human beings. It states that the weak and unfit should be allowed to die a merciful death; that some human beings are biologically superior to others. It also states that the strongest or fittest should survive and flourish in society."  
"Is this what Voldemort believes?" I say in a flat tone. "Does he believe that the poor and the 'ill' are not supposed to breed?"  
My brother grimaces at my choice of words. "Those are some examples of what the Dark Lork believes, yes. When the Dark Lord first came into power in the First War, he was a blood supremacist who believed that Purebloods were the superior race. He killed thousands of Muggleborn and Halfblood magical folk to support these strong beliefs. However, after the Battle of Hogwarts, he made it known that he himself is a Halfblood, and that his right-hand is, in fact, a Muggleborn named Hermione Granger."  
I perk up at the familiar name. My magic responds to bitter memories, not that my brother seems to notice - or care. Fucking Granger. I will kill her one day.  
I clear my throat. "So this girl... She was one of Harry Potter's best friends, and she betrayed him in the end. Did Granger convince Voldemort that he was being stupid?" I can't keep the bitterness from my voice.  
Adrian nods seriously. "Granger invented a potion that cured his insanity. After a while she even managed to return the snake-like creature into his former body, the one belonging to Tom Riddle."  
Adrian takes another sip of his brandy as he thinks. "So instead of believing in Blood Purity, Hermione persuaded him to change his goals into Social Darwinism. I believe she got the idea from the Muggle named Adolf Hitler, as I mentioned earlier."  
It takes enormous effort to wrap my head around this influx of information. "Okay, I understand. So in this new Ideology, how will our lives be decided? Like I mean wealth, appearance..." I ask, trying to understand. Blood obviously doesn't play such an important role anymore.  
"Reputation, Money, and then other things like Bloodline or Social Standing. This is where Darwinism comes in again. That means that the society develops by making differences between the people, so that poor, ill and weak people won't be allowed to 'breed' - or rather, procreate - but at the same time making things easy for the people with good genes. This is where arranged marriage comes in."  
Fuck. Even though Wistful warned us about this, I hoped that she was somehow mistaken. However Adrian's words just confirmed my fears.  
"Arranged marriage? That's, that's absurd! What the Hell, Adrian? What... How will we be paired up for these marriages?"  
I am afraid to hear his answer. I'm scared that it will be some horrifying ritual of some sort. But I need no know.  
"My guess is that it will be the same as everywhere else. A team will be sent to the Province's capital, which is Bisho. Either there, or a team will be sent to either East London or Port Elizabeth. My best bet is on East London. Then, before the age of sixteen, each person will be sent to these teams to be assessed. Based on your assessment, you will be paired up with somebody else."  
I clench my hands into the beanbag to stop their shaking. "So they decide and not our parents?"  
"It doesn't really matter since our parents are dead," Adrian says harshly.  
I flinch, but keep quiet. "What about those who are over sixteen and unmarried or unpaired?"  
Adrian shakes his head, unsure. "They will probably be assessed and paired immediately."  
My brain is humming with the information I just received. Arranged marriage, social Darwinism...  
"I think that I'm going outside for a bit," I announce. My voice sounds odd even to my own ears. "I need to clear my head."  
I get up unsteadily and walk to the door.  
"Wait, Kimmy. You're upset, I know, but-," Adrian says as he scrambles up.  
I shake my head and offer him an entirely false smile. "I will be fine," I say. I turn around and leave his office.  
As I walk away a small part of me cries for him to run after me. But my vicious side tramples the hope down. Based on past experience I know that Adrian is never there when I need him the most.  
Disjointed thoughts tumble through my mind, confusing and upsetting me even further.  
Married off before sixteen -  
Not allowed to breed if -  
Who will I marry?  
Will I be married?  
Not fit for it -  
No choice -  
Marriage -  
No choice no choice no choice NO CHOICE!  
Before long I am back in my favourite clearing in the woods where I sat with my friends just a few hours ago when we heard that Voldemort has taken over our Province. I sink down against my favourite cherry tree and draw my legs to my chest. I am absolutely terrified.  
How am I going to tell my friends about what I just learnt? Kerri is going to be crushed, since she has been dating Xander for two years now. What if they don't match? What if we are paired with a psychopath?  
A twig snaps. I lift my head and narrow my eyes at the guy leaning casually agains a tree a few feet away from me. I notice the tan skin, wide shoulders and narrow hips, the long ponytail... "What are you doing, Malkira?" I ask tiredly.  
He smirks down at my seated form. "I am standing, what does it look like I am doing?"  
I suppress a groan and force my hands to stop shaking. "I see. How long have you been standing there?"  
The tanned Middle Eastern teen just smirks.  
My hands won't stop trembling; I am too shaken up still. "I am Kimaine James," I introduce myself, finding that I am not fond of the silence anymore.  
"Ozymandias Malkira, though it seems that you already know this."  
I notice that he has seriously amazing eyes: an extremely dark grey. "I was being polite," I bite out.  
Ozymandias raises a perfect eyebrow and continues to silently stare down at me.  
"Aren't you going to say anything?" Annoyance seeps into my voice.  
Ozymandias Malkira averts his gaze to a bird sitting in a tree opposite of him, far to my right.  
"No? Well fine then," I mutter and stand up. I don't want to waste my time talking to a jerk anyway. I leave the clearing without saying a word. My head is hurting and I am in no mood for high and mighty assholes.

The walk to the girls' dorms passes by quickly and silently. As I walk I look around me at all the greenery. I breathe in the clean, fresh air and push my hair behind my ears. I am going to miss this, I think as I walk down the stone path leading to our dormitories. The fresh air, the mountains, South Africa...  
"Oh my gosh, Kimaine, you seriously need to stop spacing out," an exasperated voice says.  
I glance to my left as Vasilisa - no, Lissa, I correct myself - falls into step next to me. She seems to be in a bad mood.  
"I have a lot on my mind," I tell her. "You know, what with Voldemort taking over the Eastern Cape and all."  
Lissa nods thoughtfully. "I understand that, but why are you so...troubled? Is it because of your talk with your brother? If it is, what did he say that made you this upset?"  
I stop walking and ungracefully sit down on the grass. I pat the spot next to me, which Lissa takes after a moment's hesitation. I briefly explain why Lefu was upset. I tell her what my brother told me. I tell her about the Darwinism and the arranged marriages. I tell her everything.  
Lissa is silent for a painfully long time. She turns to me, her jade eyes serious.  
"We are Voldemort's bitches now, Kimaine," she says slowly, pointedly. "Just accept it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you do not understand the South African Provinces, don't hesitate to ask or Google!


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recap: Kimaine meets Cornith Cook, Vasilisa West and Ozymandias Malkira. She also learns of how life will be now that Voldemort is in charge of her province.

Kimaine James  
Friday 14 June 2013  
“What is this?” Vasillisa questions incredulously the moment we enter my dorm room.  
My mouth falls open as I survey the mess around me. Clothes strewn everywhere, books stacked haphazardly, our beds unmade. And I left it so tidy, too, which only leaves one culprit.  
I pull out my iPhone (a Muggle device that somehow still works here and that Lefu urgently impressed upon me) and send a text to Kerri demanding that she come back here.  
I breathe out deeply. “Please excuse the mess, Lissa. It was clean this morning.”  
The beautiful brunette merely smiles at me and sits down on the only bed without sheets. “I presume that this is mine now?”  
She is referring to me asking my brother that we room together. I nod and she smiles beatifically in return.  
I take a seat on my own bed and gaze around the room. The walls are painted beautiful light lavender that gives the room a calming atmosphere. On the wall against which Vasilisa’s bed now is, is a large window showing the beautiful mountains around us. Linking to that window is a corner window, though this one is draped with black curtains as well as the fact that it is a window seat. Despite what you’d expect, the room is not particularly bright. The professors had charmed a sort of dimming-effect, allowing just the right amount of light and heat to filter into the room.   
Kerri’s part of the room is covered in a lot of posters and coloured magical photographs. It’s a documentation of her life. Kerri is the sort of person who needs physical proof of everything she has accomplished in life; she’s never satisfied with just the experience. She needs photographs or documents authenticating her life. It’s endearing, in a way, yet sometimes it gets on my nerves.   
She also has a dark wooden desk with a tiny white lamp, as well as stacks of parchment and quills – which are old fashioned, even for her ancient Pureblood family. Most of us have resolved to use Muggle pens and paper.   
Kerri’s sheets are silver and black, the same as mine and how Vasilisa’s shortly will be. This is just the age-old colour scheme for this particular room.  
Over the window, around Vasilisa’s bed, we have over the years stuck up odd little things such as postcards or quotes we like, though Vasilisa will probably remove them soon. We have also stuck up some pencil sketches drawn by a wide variety of Magical folk.   
A large bookcase that holds dozens of books, both Muggle and Magical, stands on the left side of Vasilisa’s queen-sized bed.   
Lastly my part of the room is basic. I have put up some black and white photographs of myself, of my friends and I, of me and my brother, and some odd photos I took both at the school and at home. I also have a desk much like Kerri.  
My nose wrinkles as a foul odour wafts in. “Merlin, what is that?”  
Vasilisa frowns. “It seems like your friend has a potion disaster at the foot of her bed. Luckily it doesn’t seem lethal.”  
At that moment the bedroom door bursts open as Kerri races into the room. She pants, out of breath, and bends over. “Phew, I am so unfit.”   
She sees my glare and winces. “Yeah... about the room...” Her voice trails off into an intelligent mumble. “I love you?” She tries hopefully.  
I twist my lips and lower my voice so that it matches the Alders patriarch. “Kerri Alders, no child of mine is allowed to mumble.”  
She grabs her bunny teddy and hurls it at my face. “Fuck off, Kim!”   
I laugh and quickly smooth my hair down. “As long as you clean this up we will be fine, okay?”  
Kerri nods eagerly. “Done and dusted! Er... and a dark chocolate, right?”  
She knows me all too well. I smirk.  
Kerri’s eyes finally focuses onto Vasilisa and her eyebrows raise with surprise. “Who are you?” Her voice is defensive.   
Vasilisa gets up from her seated position to carefully examine my best friend.  
“My name is Vasilisa West. I have been assigned to this room for the remainder of my stay.” Her voice is excruciatingly polite.  
Kerri lifts her chin haughtily and her eyes roam Vasilisa’s person critically. “I am Kerri Alders, pleased to make your acquaintance, West.”  
They stare guardedly at each other until a smile twitches Vasilisa’s lips. “Let’s get along, Alders, shall we?”

Not too long after Vasilisa has settled in, a young owl arrives at one of the windows. The little thing flies inside and settles on the back of my desk chair. He hoots. I untie the letter from his leg and carefully open it while Kerri feeds him a treat.   
“Numbers 8, 15 and 20, please report to the Assembly Hall as soon as you receive this letter. This is not a request. Signed, Professor Bulero.”  
I frown. “Eight is Malkira, fifteen is Xander Olivier and last is you, Kerr.”  
Kerri pulls a face. “I wonder what it’s about,” she complains.  
I smile at her and give her a quick hug. “Whatever it is, I’m sure that it will be fine. Just stay safe, okay?”  
She grins cheekily. “Always.”  
The moment she is gone, Vasilisa starts humming. “It is probably for a mission of sorts,” she murmurs, almost to herself. She’s quiet in thought, and then she asks who Xander Olivier is.  
“It’s Kerri’s boyfriend, they have been dating for the last two years,” I explain in short.   
Xander is a good friend and an even better boyfriend who loves Kerri with his whole being.   
I am left to my thoughts again. I feel apprehensive about my friend’s absence, and send a quick prayer to the Christian God for her safe return. 

Ozymandias Malkira  
“You will be observing the Death Eaters,” the African professor says pointedly for what has to be the hundredth time. “You are doing this to figure out their patrol patterns, some plans, or just anything you happen to overhear. Every single bit of information is useful. Understood?”  
The two standing next to me nod with quiet ‘of course’s’. Professor Bulero’s dark brown eyes pierce into mine.   
I roll my eyes and lazily say, “Yes, Professor.”  
The Prof gives me a warning look. “You have ten minutes to get dressed in your dorms. When you have all returned you will take a Portkey to your destination. You are dismissed.”  
Thank gods.  
I do not like teachers whatsoever.   
I start walking in the direction pointed out as the Boy Dormitories but someone calls my name and I still my movements.  
“Hey Malkira, wait up!” It’s Xander Oliver, number 15.   
After a moment’s contemplation I continue walking.   
“Hey man, are you deaf?” Olivier asks with a wide grin as he falls into step by my side.  
“I heard you,” I answer without any emotion.   
I eye him critically out of the corner of my eye. He has tanned skin, a muscular build, shaggy black hair and brown eyes. Has he ever heard of a comb? He’s nothing special; definitely a Pureblood though judging by his aristocratic features.   
“Ah, so you aren’t the talkative type, are you?” Xander questions with the same ridiculous grin.  
I subtly roll my eyes. I don’t need to waste precious energy on a fool such as he.   
Olivier fidgets. “Um... are you excited for the mission? I think it’s pretty cool that we are the first ones to represent the Ravens, ever. Don’t you? I mean, those other guys-”   
I tune out his monologue, not in the mood for any endless inane chatter.  
(Am I ever?)  
I feel exhausted. I am unable to express the same enthusiasm of the insipid teenager following me. I just need to get the night over with.   
We reach the dorm and I am so relieved to be finally rid of this boy -  
only to have him walk into the same room.  
“What are you doing?” My jaw is clenched.  
The raven-haired smiles sheepishly. “This is my assigned room too.”  
I mutter an Arabic curse and stride to my dresser. I open it and grab one of my best purchases – a wizard Ninja outfit (which is better than it sounds). They are tremendously high-priced although well worth the cost.  
I turn to face Olivier to see if he is finished. The teenager is dressed in simple black jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. In his hands is a old, woollen balaclava.  
“Shall we leave?” the raven-haired Olivier asks.  
I give my answer by leaving the dorm.  
When we reach the Assembly Hall, the girl, Kerri Alders, is already waiting with an anxious expression. When she sees us, she seems relieved.   
She holds up a small wooden key. “This is our Portkey. It will take us to the outskirts of Hogsback where the first attack took place.”  
“Lovely. We will probably freeze to death,” Olivier mutters with a curse.   
I silently agree. It is in the middle of winter, and Hogsback is generally cold. In the winter, especially this time of night, it is even worse.   
“We will be fine, babe,” Alders says reassuringly with a sideways hug to Olivier. She rolls her eyes when his attention is diverted.   
“Okay, hands on the Portkey, people!” Alders exclaims.  
I obediently place a finger on the intricately carved key. It is activated immediately and I close my eyes at the pull behind my navel.  
I open my eyes when it passes, only to find that Alders and her boyfriend are sprawled on the ground, groaning. Evidently they do not possess the grace required to land standing. My lip curls in disgust.  
Kerri notices this. “Don’t even think of opening your mouth, Malkira!” the redhead hisses. She stands with the help of her boyfriend.  
“Be quiet,” I murmur calmly. I grip my wand and command, “Lumos!”   
The light immediately pierces the near-suffocating darkness. We are in the middle of a forest and the ground is wet. There is a cold bite to the air that causes Alders to shiver.  
“We should start moving.”  
The couple nods. We carefully start to navigate our way through the forest. Every crack of a twig snapping has us pausing, but I soon realise that there is nobody around. I straighten out of my crouch and I am just about to announce the lack of Death Eaters when I hear loud footsteps, too close to our position for comfort. I hurriedly extinguish the Lumos and duck down, hissing at my companions to follow my lead. If I waited for even a second longer we would have been spotted immediately.   
“I am telling you that there’s someone here,” a woman’ with a high-pitched voice insists. As she nears our position, I study her features that are lit by her own Lumos. She has an oval-shaped face with a sharp chin and a button-like nose. Wild curly blonde hair falls to her elbows. I notice with some revulsion that her hair hasn’t been washed in a while and is in desperate need of a cut.  
“Hurry up, you idiot!” the same woman growls.   
“Call me an idiot one more time, Vicky, and I swear I will-,” a masculine voice threatens only to be interrupted by the woman.  
“You will do what, kill me?” She bursts out in laughter – it is a high, sarcastic sound that grates on my ears. “Fenrir will eat your worthless ass if you so much as breathe on me.”  
“Fenrir Greyback won’t be able to touch me,” the man spits out. “He is what, sixty years old?”  
I notice that his hair matches the woman’s; only his is much shorter and cleaner. His nose is also about a hundred times bigger than the woman’s. From the similarities in their appearance I would say that they are siblings, possibly twins.  
“It does not matter how old he is, brother dearest. He looks like a thirty year old man, which is good enough for me.” The woman – Vicky – sounds ridiculously smug. Her companion makes a disgusted sound and next to me.   
Olivier snorts.  
I barely restrain myself from killing him.  
“Did you hear that?” Vicky hisses lowly. Her eyes narrow in our general direction.  
“Hn,” her brother agrees.   
The pair slowly approaches our spot with their wands held at the ready. I tense in anticipation, ready to blow them to pieces if need be. Alders is quivering next to me.  
Calm down, Alders, it’s not that bad.   
The woman comes to an abrupt halt with a yelp. “It’s a snake, a fucking snake! Get it off of me! FUCK! GET IT OFF, YOU USELESS PIECE OF SHIT! OH MY GOD!”   
Her hands wave in the air in an attempt to get the snake out of her robes.  
A loud chuckle escapes the man’s mouth as he banishes the python that slithered out of his sister’s robes.   
“Let’s get out of here. I fucking hate forests,” Vicky demands, her voice disgruntled. “I’ll send Fenrir in to find the punk who is hiding here.”  
Vicky stretches out and aims a glare that promises excruciating pain into our direction. “Do you hear that, brat?” she calls out. She turns around swiftly and storms into the direction from which they came.  
“Not so brave now, is she?” her brother crows as he follows after his sister, laughing boisterously all the way. 

After a half an hour of fruitless searching we finally find a Death Camp, Zimbini. ‘Zimbini’ is the isiXhosa word for ‘two’, which means that this Death Camp is filled with children.  
“This is horrible,” Alders whispers with a pale face. The moonlight illuminates her Pureblood features beautifully. “How many children are in there, do you reckon?”   
I make a quick head count of the gathered youngsters awaiting their food rations.   
“I would say twenty-three,” I murmur.  
Another two little girls appear.  
“Make that twenty-five.”   
From my vantage point I can make out six Death Eaters stationed at various parts around the Camp. Two are stationed at the front gate while the rest are patrolling along the barbed wire and cursed fences.   
The two Death Eater siblings from earlier enter the small house that is built a hundred metres away from this Camp Zimbini. I recall them mentioning a Fenrir Greyback earlier, who is a werewolf if my memory is to be trusted.  
(Which it is, of course.)  
“We should move closer,” Olivier murmurs. “Much closer, if we want to hear anything.”  
I nod in agreement. “Alders, I want you to go around from the left side and try to move closer to the children. You should make an attempt to extract any information from the teenagers. Ensure that they make no obvious reaction of your presence.”  
The redhead Pureblood dips her head in understanding.  
I turn to Olivier. “I need you to move through the surrounding forest and eavesdrop on any Death Eaters that might be lurking around. I assume that you are trained in the subtle art of Legilimency?”  
Olivier frowns. “Of course I am, Malkira.”  
“Good, I trust that you will make use of that skill. Be sure to Obliviate the Death Eaters afterwards.”  
“Understood,” Olivier says with determination.   
“I will enter the house in my Animagus form to gather any information that I can. Let’s agree to meet back at this point in, say, two hours’ time?” I impatiently await their responses.   
The couple nods their silent agreement. I look away with annoyance as Alders and Olivier says their goodbyes. God, with the way that they are acting you’d think that they would never see each other again. As soon as they are gone, I close my eyes and picture my Animagus form: a majestic yet tiny Black Mamba. I imagine my body changing, shrinking, and morphing into the form of the King of Snakes. It takes only a few seconds. When I open my eyes again the world around me appears a hundred times larger.   
With an inner smirk (as snakes certainly cannot smirk) I slither through the grass. I reach the house within a minute. The door is wide open, which strikes me as irresponsible. How inept are these Death Eaters? After a moment’s consideration, I decide to just slither right in. Nobody is around, anyway. The house inside is as unimpressive as I expected: old wooden floors, the walls made of cement and wattle, while the low ceiling is struggling to not cave in. The wood is surprisingly warm underneath my cold, reptilian body.   
I stop moving when I hear laughter coming from somewhere on the second floor. I lift my head slightly as footsteps vibrate across the floor. It’s the sibling Death Eaters from before. They thunder up the stairs in a stony silence. Rage and desire seems to pour out of the woman in waves. What a strange creature.   
I follow them up the stairs and to a closed wooden door. Vicky breathes in deeply and then knocks on the door.   
“Enter,” a gruff voice speaks. It must be the famed Werewolf.   
I decide to follow them inside. I might learn some interesting information, so it will definitely be worth it.   
Or not.  
The room has five occupants: the sibling Death Eaters, the Werewolf as well as two terrified teenagers. The Werewolf is a foul man with filthy skin, who reeks of rotten meat. His teeth are sharper than normal for being in human form, and his hair is all over the place.   
The Siblings take their places at either side of Greyback, who is seated at the head of a small metal table. Tied to a chair opposite one another are the two teenagers, a boy and a girl. The girl appears to be around seventeen years old with pale skin and dull brunette hair. She is gagged, though it doesn’t seem to deter her, judging by her hateful glare at Greyback. She seems worried; she shoots the occasional reassuring glance at her fellow captive, who seems to be a younger sibling.  
Said fellow captive looks to be around thirteen years old. He has the same pale lips, square chin and high cheekbones as the girl. Unlike her, however, he is not gagged. He has dried blood in his hair and around his neck, possibly from being hit around a bit.  
“Has she said anything yet, Fenrir?” Vicky questions. She shoots a disgusted look at the girl and wrinkles her nose. “It’s been fucking four hours since we forced the potion down her throat. She should be spitting prophecies as we speak!”  
“Impetuosa Prophetia does not work that way,” Vicky’s brother says in a tone of voice that suggests that this is not the first time that he has told her this.  
I’m reluctantly impressed. The Forceful Prophecy potion is extremely hard to come by, and this implies that the captive girl is a Seer. The potion would have ended her existence if she weren’t. The younger one is probably kept as leverage.   
“Be quiet, Balthazar!” Greyback growls at Vicky’s brother and bares his teeth.   
Balthazar cowers back, causing the Werewolf to smirk.   
“The wimp will surely piss his pants if you keep on growling at him, Fenrir,” Vicky says in a faux stern voice. “So don’t do that to my brother.”  
Balthazar tenses and glares at his sister. His cheeks are red with humiliation. Fenrir releases a short protective growl, which forces Balthazar to hastily switch targets. He gracefully stands up walks to the tied up girl. She watches him approach with apprehension.  
“Such a beautiful girl,” he murmurs. Balthazar reaches up to gently caress her cheek. He stares intently into her eyes for a few seconds, seemingly contemplative, before violently gripping her chin and glaring in to her alarmed eyes. “Now give us a damn prophecy before I destroy you, you stupid African bitch!”   
He lets her chin go with unnecessary force, forcing her out of her chair and onto the floor. She hits her head on the corner of the table. Her brother yells into his gag, thrashing, trying to get to her. Nobody pays him any attention.  
“I will do much worse if you do not start spitting out prophecies within the next ten minutes, understood?” The Werewolf says in a hard tone at the crying girl.   
She nods and immediately her tears are gone. Instead she stares emotionlessly at the towering Werewolf and mumbles something. Greyback seems to suddenly remember that her mouth is gagged and, with a wave of his wand, she is untied and ungagged.  
“What was that, darling?” Vicky coos.   
The Seer doesn’t answer immediately. She stares intently at her arm and makes a strange clicking sound with her tongue. I watch, fascinated, as the bruising disappears from her face, her neck and her wrists. Finally, calmly, she says, “How the fuck am I supposed to ‘spit’ prophecies if I’m gagged and tied up?”  
The trio is quiet. I assume that that though never even crossed their minds. Were they born without the capacity to think?   
The Seer sighs, suddenly weary again. “The potion has long since left my system. If you dose me with a few more drops, you will have a prophecy within three minutes.”  
Greyback gazes thoughtfully down at the brunette’s position on the floor. He cracks his neck to each side before taking something out of his inner robe pocket, and then places it on the table. Inside is a neon green liquid, the one defining fact that this is indeed the Forceful Prophecy potion. “I need your reassurance that you will not attack us. We have given you some freedom, Seer. Do not make me regret it.”   
The girl nods slowly, her eyes slightly widened. She reeks of fear, and Greyback seems to take sick delight in it.   
Suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, Greyback snatches the potion and crouches down to the floor. He grabs the Seer’s chin and allows his claws to penetrate the delicate skin. She whimpers and tries to flinch back, but the Werewolf’s grip is too strong. He forces her mouth open and administers the required dosage.   
I’m curious despite myself. Never before have I seen Impetuosa Prophetia in action. I watch as she falls, convulsing, to the filthy, dust-covered floor. Her brother thrashes in his bounds. Vicky jumps up and plonks herself onto his lap. She coos something into his ear, which causes him to pale dramatically and slump his shoulders slightly. Vicky smirks and, after kissing his temple in a taunting manner, gets up to drape herself over her Werewolf’s lap.   
I slither to the shit-stained teenage boy and rest against his ankles. He doesn’t seem to notice me, which suites me just fine as I am currently borrowing his body heat. I am just starting to doze off (my bad) when the boy tenses and the Death Eaters quieten. I slither upwards for a better look, surprised that no one has managed to notice me yet.  
The Seer’s eyes have faded into a milky white while her mouth hangs open. Drool pools into the corners of her mouth. A second passes, and then:  
“During the dusk  
Of the Red Moon  
Faith is lost  
For the birds  
When the second hand   
Upon the clock’s face  
Hints at the twelfth symbol  
Victory (and bloodshed)   
Shall be theirs.”  
The Seer’s eyes regains their colour and they focus onto Greyback. Her brow is crinkled in thought.   
“Where is the rest of it?” Vicky demands suddenly into the silence.   
The brunette Seer lifts her chin and meets Vicky’s glare with a fierce look of her own. “That is all there is to it. I know just as much as you do.”  
“What the fuck? Fenrir, tell her to start talking! What fucking birds? What does this have to do with us? Fenrir!”  
The Werewolf places a forceful hand onto his partner’s shoulder just as she is about to lunge at the Seer. He growls something into her ear and nibs at it, drawing the tiniest amount of blood. His claws dig into her waist.   
“We shall administer another dosage,” Fenrir says a few moments later. “We’ll milk you until you are completely dry. Is that understood?”  
“Yes, sir,” is her timid reply.   
“I can’t hear you!” Vicky crows. “Say it louder. Say it!”  
“Ye-,”  
The Seer is interrupted by a shill scream from the direction of the Death Camp. The Death Eaters react immediately and jump up with wands at the ready. I fall from the boy’s shoulders, but nobody seems to notice.   
“INTRUDER!” a voice over the Sonorous-charm bellows. A loud crash, a curse, and then, “STOP MOVING YOU STUPID LITTLE GINGER BITCH” follows it.  
I know of one ginger, and it is a fellow Raven representative. Cursing Alders’ bad timing, I immediately transform back into my exquisite human self. The idiot Balthazar barely has time to react before I catch him with a powerful red stunner.  
His sister lets out an enrage scream and roars out “Confringo!”   
I jump out of the way of her surprisingly powerful blasting curse and take cover behind the teenage boy who was my personal body heater. By some sort of luck shot I manage to hit the Werewolf with a weak full body bind. Vicky sees this and Apparates away on the spot.  
I curse the blonde witch and follow her example by Apparating to our allocated meeting spot just outside of the Death Camp Zimbini. The sight that greets me causes me to pause momentarily. Little Kerri Alders is locked in a fierce battle with four Death Eaters – predictably, she is losing. Strewn around behind her at the burning Camp is dozens of unmoving bodies. Are they dead?  
I move my attention to that idiot Olivier, who seems to be holding his own quite impressively against two female Death Eaters. I dismiss him and hurry over to the redhead girl who singlehandedly managed to screw up the entire mission.   
I send a low-powered blasting curse at one of her opponent’s feet, causing him to lose said feet with a piercing scream.   
“How the hell did you get caught?” I growl furiously at Alders.   
I hit another Death Eater with a Tickling Charm, leaving him unable to do anything except to laugh uproariously.   
Kerri Alders yells out a curse that shatters her opponent’s kneecaps. “They spotted,” – she pauses and hits an approaching Death Eater with a stunner that sends him flying – “My hair!”  
Incredulous, I stop moving completely. Is she... is she fucking serious? Her cursed red hair ruined an entire mission? Oh for Merlin’s sake.   
“Pasop!” Alders yells out a warning in Afrikaans and pushes me to the ground. She takes the spell that is meant for me, and I watch, without any genuine emotion, as a large laceration appears on her face, stretching from her right temple to the corner of her pale lips. She grimaces from the pain.  
“Get up, Malkira!”   
I roll over and narrowly miss the deadly green Avada Kedavra. I jump up and send a Jelly-Brain Jinx at the brainless woman who tried to kill me. It’s Vicky. I should have known.   
Vicky laughs boisterously as she doges the jinx, her blonde hair lifting in the sudden wind. “Reducto!” she shrieks.   
I curse and barely manage to dodge. The previously pitch-black night is now illuminated by sickly spell-fire. I feel a migraine coming. Fuck.   
I fire off a Leg-Locker curse that finally hits the blonde. I follow it with a quick stunner, but she stops it with a hurriedly shouted “Protego!” She undoes the jinx on her legs and bares her sharpened teeth at me.  
A shout draws my attention to the Alders girl as she shoots off a Blasting curse that shatters her latest opponent’s leg. He crumples to the ground with a muffled cry. Alders looks up to meet my gaze and offers me a wild, giddy grin. I almost smile back, but stop myself just in time. This girl is of no importance to me.   
Something behind her catches my eye. A masked Death Eater has managed to sneak up behind the fiery redhead. I curse in Arabic and sprint towards her. I tackle her to the ground just in time to get out of the way of a toxic looking yellow spell.   
“Constant vigilance, Alders!” I growl and jump up again, trying to ignore the splinters and tiny rocks in my palms.   
Alders scowls and hastily stands. She runs to attack the masked Death Eater that almost got her, electing to disregard my existence.   
I sigh irritably and decide to stand back. I don’t have a large magical core to begin with, so there is no use in wasting precious magic. The girl can handle herself.   
I watch with a sense of fascination at the way Alders moves. She has a certain . . . grace about her, as though she is dancing an intricate dance that only she is familiar with. Her hair is all over the place and a fiery red, just like her personality. For a moment I can almost swear that the tips have caught on fire, but a blink discards that impossible thought. She is beautiful, and vengeful. Her movements and spells paint a picture that is hard to overlook.   
“Kerri!” The frightened scream tears through my intense focus on Alders and my eyes are immediately drawn to where it came from. Olivier is hunched over, his skin paler than ever, and clutching his side. His flesh is visible through a tear in his black clothing, underneath his hand, which is drenched in blood pulsating out of the wound. My eyes falls to the ground, where there seems to be a lump of flesh; Olivier’s flesh. Fenrir Greyback is stood just behind him with blood smeared gruesomely all over his face and chest.   
Alders is too focused on her opponent to react much on her name being called, but it seems to drive her to end the fight. She growls a finger-removing jinx, followed by a chained Leg-locker, Blasting curse and a powerful stunner. The masked Death Eater is no more. Her focus is turned to her boyfriend, and she instantaneously tenses up.  
I notice Vicky as she appears next to her Werewolf. I stride forward to stand next to Alders. She better not do something stupid.   
“Well, well, well,” Vicky purrs as she moves until she is tightly against Olivier’s back, her breasts squished tightly against him. “Lookie what we have here.”  
Alders’ fingers tighten around her wand. She is shaking with barely-controlled rage. And fear, probably. “Don’t,” she grounds out with difficulty.   
Vicky’s eyebrows rise. “Don’t what, honey? Touch him?” She snakes out her tongue and licks a trembling Olivier’s ear. “I own him.”  
Her fingers presses into Olivier’s wound and he cries out, crumpling in on himself. Vicky lets out a delighted laugh.   
Alders screams. “Don’t hurt him!”   
“Kerri,” Olivier gasps. “Kerri, don’t! Just go!”   
Vicky gently kisses his neck and suckles for a few seconds. Alders is vibrating with rage and adrenalin. “Fenrir-love, do you reckon he’ll go all wolfy now? It’s almost the full moon, after all.”  
The Werewolf frowns. “I doubt it. How about we keep him and find out?”  
Vicky wraps her arms around Olivier’s waist and she rests her chin on his shoulder. “Can we make a lover out of him?” Her hand snakes down to cup his member.   
Quicker than any of us can comprehend, Alders hits the offending Werewolf with a Reducto. Vicky releases an enraged scream and snaps Olivier’s neck before running to Greyback’s side. He lays, unmoving.   
Alders collapses to the wet ground, silent, in shock, in pain.   
Vicky looks up, murder in her eyes.   
“Fuck, get up you idiot! We need to leave, now!”  
When she makes no move to do so, I roughly grab her arm and pull her up. I wrap my arms around her and concentrate hard on the Apparation point just outside of the School. I barely know this girl, and I certainly do not feel any sort of attachment towards her, but I can’t just let a comrade die.   
With a pop, we are gone. I slam violently into the ground. Alders is heavy on top of me so I shove her off. Her shock seems to have worn off. Instead she is wailing hysterically. The sound grates on my ears.   
“Stop being pathetic,” I snap at her. I angrily get up from the wet forest ground and brush leaves and dirt off my ass.   
She stares up at me with flooded eyes.   
“Do not blubber. You are a Pureblood, Alders. It’s unbecoming.”  
A sudden fire enters her eyes and within a second she is stood before me, seething. “Why did you Apparate?” she demands in a voice like steel. Her eyes fill with a hate I hadn’t thought her capable of feeling.   
“We were about to be killed or worse, severely tortured,” I answer, deadpan.   
Alders blinks twice as if shocked, and then her face contorts. “Why did you take me away from Xander? How could you just leave him there?”   
She walks closer to me and punches my chest. My fists clench, but I do not react.   
“We needed to – I, I needed to stay with him, Malkira! I-I loved him! How the fuck could you just leave him behind? FUCK YOU, MALKIRA!” Her voice cracks and she clutches desperately at her chest as though she is experiencing physical pain. I check, but there is no sign of gore.   
Blood drips down her forehead and down to her eyes. It mixes with the tears and continues rolling down her cheeks, creating a rather disturbing image of blood tears.   
Unbidden anger churns in my gut. I usually prided myself in being able to keep my emotions hidden or at least non-existent, but the redhead is so foolish that I am unable to help myself.   
“You are even more thick than I’d originally thought,” I say through clenched teeth.   
“Excuse me?”  
“How can you say that you loved him, Alders, hmm?” The redhead moves to punch me again but I grab her wrist in a firm grasp. She squirms with pain. “If you ‘loved’ him, you would have done something and not stood there like a weakling while that Death Eater was hurting him and taunting you. How can you say you love him while you are stood here and acting pathetic?”   
I revel in the pain that crumples her composure. She has no concept of what love genuinely is.   
“Don’t you dare call me pathetic!” Alders shouts. Her magic lashes out gorgeously in response to her unstable emotions and a strong gust of wind nearly topples me over.   
I sneer at her. “You are the epitome of pathetic. You have been together for two years, which is next to nothing. Furthermore, the so-called love of your life was in a life-threatening situation and you did absolutely nothing to help him. You are the reason that he is dead.”  
“Don’t say another fucking word, Malkira. You have no right to run your mouth like that. I loved him. I loved him with everything I am,” Alders growls, her voice strong once again. “I was frozen on the fucking spot, okay? She had him in her arms, so what was I supposed to do? She was going to hurt him! She could have killed him!”  
My lips twist into a smirk. “She did kill him.”   
Alders shakes her head. She is quiet and it seems as though she is searching for something in my eyes. Finally she says, “I don’t get why you’re being a dick. Take me back to Hogsback. I cannot Apparate by Raven Law and I need to get Xander! What must he be thinking?”  
My face goes blank at her infuriating naivety (irrationality perhaps). “Alders, listen to me closely. If we go back now, they will kill us. The place is most likely crawling with Death Eaters right now.”  
“B-but-,” she stutters.  
I interrupt her. “I said no,” I snap forcefully. “Xander Olivier is dead. Vicky snapped his neck after you attacked Fenrir Greyback. He is dead and he is never coming back.”  
Alders is shaking her head as if in denial. She isn’t listening to me.   
I grab her by her shoulders and shake her a few times. “If you go back now, Olivier would have been killed for nothing. He died to protect you. His death gave us the opportunity to get away. If you go back now, his death would be in vain.” I’m breathing heavily and my heart is pounding erratically in my chest. I watch with twisted satisfaction, as Alders grows more and more subdued. Good, I have one last message for her.  
“Alders, if you truly want to honour his memory,” I say lowly, intently, “Then you would do your best to beat the ever-loving fuck out of the people who killed him.”  
Her head bows down and silent tears streams down her face. I’m surprised at how quickly she’s deflated. With one last broken-hearted look at me, she turns around and runs into the surrounding forest.   
I sigh and rub a hand over my face. A vague feeling of guilt starts to build up inside of me. I hadn’t meant to get riled up. I shake my head and start walking to the School. It’s time to relay the night’s events to the Professors.   
For now, however, I’ll keep the prophecy to myself.


End file.
